


Kiss Me At Midnight

by ladiekatie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Boring Parties, Coffee Shop AU at the end, Getting Together, M/M, New Years Eve, New Years kiss, Rave, Stiles knows Derek, but Derek doesn't' know Stiles, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladiekatie/pseuds/ladiekatie
Summary: “‘Not that bad’ you say? I think Judge Parkins died,” the guy points to a table nearby where District Judge Andrew Parkins was asleep. Hopefully.“He’s asleep,” Derek counters, though he knows he still hasn’t found his footing in the whole flirting department.“Fine, so he is alive, but that doesn’t change the fact that this party is the opposite of where guys like us should be.”“And where should guys like us be?” Derek asks, crossing his arms. He knows he probably looks annoyed, but if this guy was offering him a way out, he’ll take it.“Literally anywhere but here.”or the one where Derek is at a boring New Year's Eve party, and Stiles saves him by taking him to a rave and kissing him at midnight.





	Kiss Me At Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been planned for a year. A whole year. Like wow. And here it is! I wrote it like in a week and it's still not as great as I wanted, but i really don't want to wait another year to post it. 
> 
> I hope you like it! I had to rush to get it done because I wanted it posted in 2017. So here we go!
> 
> This wasn't super beta'd so if there are any mistakes, let me know. I'll try and fix em. though no promises.

Derek doesn’t really know why he agreed to come to this stupid thing. Well, yes he does: his mother asked him to. Never mind the endless teasing he gets from his sisters, he has always been and will always be a mama’s boy. So, he’s here to please his mother.

She just won the mayoral campaign, and it’s her first year in office so she decided to throw a huge New Year’s Eve Gala at the nicest hotel in town. La Grande Lupin is the only “nice” hotel in the county, and it’s right smack dab in the middle of downtown. The evening starts off with a real who’s who of the area. The local law enforcement and fire department are in attendance, as well as most of the city council. Big names that helped his mother take office with endorsements and funding.

Derek is the polite party host that he was raised to be. He shakes hands of all the old fuddy duddies that would probably be in bed by now if it were any other night. The whole affair is very posh, but truth be told, Derek would rather be anywhere but here.

The music is dull, very sophisticated sounding string of notes that made the whole evening seem like a charity function rather than a party that will ring in the new year. His mother is off somewhere, likely schmoozing a city council member or discussing a new tax plan.

The dance floor is empty, because no one wants to dance to classical music. It’s 10:00 and people are leaving. This definitely isn’t the most exciting party Derek’s been to. Derek spends a little time making his way around the room, ultimately finding himself alone at a table near the back. The tie around his neck gets straightened and he pulls at the collar of his dress shirt off handedly wondering why this was a black tie party. Hopefully it will end soon so he can get home before all the drunks get on the road. He’s checking his email, reading one from his old professor at Berkeley asking for him to come give a guest lecture in the spring, when suddenly a body plops into the chair next to his.

“This party blows, huh?” the guy says. Derek is a little bit annoyed that his isolation is being intruded upon. The phone goes dark in his hands as he sets it on the table to look at who would possibly be interested in talking to him. What he’s not expecting is for the guy to be cute.

The guy has eyes that he could wax poetic on. ‘Beautiful’ is an understatement. The low light in the room probably doesn’t do them justice, but damn, Derek bets they’re astounding in daylight. His lips are pointed, his cupid’s bow distinct and begging to be sucked. The upturn of his nose is adorable and the moles that dot his face make Derek want to play connect the dots. His black tie attire looks utterly relaxed in contrast to everyone lingering in the room. The bow tie around his neck is untied and hanging around his neck, and his sleeves are rolled up exposing forearms traced with veins that go down to his hands. He’s hot, and suddenly Derek is happy he isn’t sitting at the table alone anymore.

“It’s not that bad,” he says, suddenly forgetting how to flirt. That’s how hot this guy is, he’s making Derek forget how to flirt. Which means he’s defaulting to, what Laura calls his Weird-Serial-Killer Vibe.

“‘Not that bad’ you say? I think Judge Parkins died,” the guy points to a table nearby where District Judge Andrew Parkins was asleep. Hopefully.

“He’s asleep,” Derek counters, though he knows he still hasn’t found his footing in the whole flirting department.

“You willing to make a bet?” Brown Eyes says, a smirk on his lips and whoa. Derek hasn’t been this lust struck in a long time. Derek licks his lips while keeping an eye on the other man’s.

Before Derek can answer, Brown Eyes gets up out of his chair and starts crawling, _crawling_ to the table where Judge Parkins is. He does a somersault as he gets closer and Derek can’t help be endured and laugh a little as his tie hits his face on the way up. The guy is funny, and compared to the rather dull tone of the party, it’s refreshing and has Derek enthralled.

Brown Eyes pulls himself into a seat next to the judge and grabs a spoon that was left on the table. He polishes it with a napkin and holds it up under the judge’s nose. He entire face crans to look at the result, his mouth falls open and he makes a silly face at the spoon, indicating that the good judge was still alive. Derek rolls his eyes when Brown Eyes looks at him. The smile that comes from him is electric. Derek doesn’t even know his name, but he can tell that his night is instantly better because this guy is in it.

Brown Eyes doesn’t bother with the dramatics on his way back to the table. Slumping down into the chair he occupied earlier he says, “fine, so he _is_ alive, but that doesn’t change the fact that this party is the opposite of where guys like us should be.”

“And where should guys like us be?” Derek asks, crossing his arms. He knows he probably looks annoyed, but if this guy was offering him a way out, he’ll take it.

“Literally anywhere but here.”

The smirk is back, this time it’s devious. Derek raises his eyebrows, waiting for an elaboration.

“My friend is playing at a rave in a warehouse 15 minutes away. Timebomb is going to be there,” Brown Eyes says. Derek has no idea what or who he’s talking about.

“I can’t. My mother-” Derek starts, worried that if he leaves his mother will be mad with him.

“Your mother is over there talking to Sheriff Stilinski,” Brown Eyes interrupts. “She’ll never know you’re gone. Trust me, the sheriff will keep her busy for years if she’s not careful.”

Part of Derek desperately wants to leave. This party feels like it’s going to take another year to get to midnight. The other, mama’s boy part of him wants to stay, just in case his mother needs him. Not that she will, he knows that. She’s busy socializing and probably won’t even bother seeking Derek out again until it’s time to leave.

Brown Eyes must see what Derek is thinking because he says, “She’ll be fine. We’ll be 15 minutes away, and we can be back in time for the countdown if you really want. I just can’t stand to be here for another 2 hours.”

Derek thinks for a couple more moments, Brown Eyes lets him think.

“Come on Derek. Let’s get out of here,” he says and the way his name dances on his tongue and his lips form around the words makes Derek’s stomach do a weird flip and all he can do is nod once. Before he knows it, Brown Eyes pulls his jacket from the back of his chair, takes Derek’s hand, and they’re making their way to the side entrance.

The other man’s hand in his is warm and soft. Derek can’t help but squeeze as the door opens. He looks back over his shoulder to see his mother’s back turned away. She looks busy, and like she’s none the wiser about Derek and the mystery man’s departure. Derek does, however, catch a glimpse of Laura’s smug smile with Izzy on her hip. She’s going to tease him about this for years, he knows it.

Brown Eyes pushes the door open, despite the sign that says an alarm will sound. No sound comes from the door, and Derek gets pulled down hallway and out of a door into the cool December air.

“First, we eat,” Brown Eyes states as he shrugs on his suit jacket. The formal attire is definitely not thick enough to keep them warm for long.

“There was dinner at the party,” Derek argues. The chicken was quite good, and there was a plethora of hor'dourves all night.

“That wasn’t dinner bro, that was a snack. I ate like 4 of those chicken bites. I need a burger, stat.” Brown Eyes walks down the alley, snow flurries float down from the sky, but the small amount doesn’t stick to the street. “To Hank’s!” Brown Eyes shouts with one hand in the sky and the other on his hips. It looks like a poorly executed superhero stance.

It makes Derek smile.

“Wow, a real smile. I thought you’d be broody all night. That would make this significantly less fun,” Brown Eyes says, his own smile appearing on his face. The cold air is getting to them, and Derek can see a blush appearing on his face, and the tip of his nose is turning pink. It’s cute, and Derek is again suddenly happy to not be alone. “Let’s go, or I’m going to freeze my balls off.”

The two walk down the alley until they’re on the main street. The ground is wet from the spurt of rain they got over the past week. The weather reports were saying that there was going to be snow, but it hadn’t happened yet. Snow in California was a tough sell. Still everyone was expecting to wake up on Christmas morning to a blanket of white. It was heartbreaking to see no snow, it was more heart breaking to find out it was going to be nearly 70 degrees by noon.

The streets are mostly empty. The cars line the curb, and the streetlights are lit. A couple of homeless people talk on a bench, curled up in a blanket while a dog sleeps on their feet. There are no bars in the downtown area, an old holdover from prohibition that never seemed to clear it self up, so there aren’t any young people wandering around in the streets.

The two men walk in companionable silence as the neon signs for law firms and banks reflect off the wet asphalt.

“So, who are you again?” Derek finally asks, as they wait for the crosswalk to change.

“You don’t know who I am?” Brown Eyes asks. He holds his hand up to his chest in feign horror. It doesn’t last long before he cracks a smile and lowers it again. Derek shakes his head and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“You mean to say, that you left your mother’s party with a perfect stranger?” The look on his face was a little judgey, but Derek could see where he was coming from. “Well, I guess it makes sense. I was too young for you to remember when you were in high school, and by the time I got to high school you were gone. When you came back, I left for college, and I’ve been away since.” Brown Eyes shrugs, like that should solve the puzzle.

The thing is Derek has no idea what he is talking about. How does this guy know so much about him? Well, they grew up in the same town, maybe even the same social circle, so it’s easy to get where he’d know this from. But Derek genuinely doesn’t remember this guy. Nothing, not even a feeling of his name is coming to him right now.

“I’m sorry- I don’t-” Derek tries. He really does feel bad, but there isn’t much he can do now.

“Well then in that case: Hi, I’m Stiles,” Brown Eyes- Stiles- sticks his hand out waiting for Derek to take it. The crosswalk changes, but instead of reaching out to shake Stiles’ hand, he grabs it and drags him across the street.

“What kind of name is Stiles? Stiles what?”

Derek tests out the name on his tongue. It’s definitely not a name he has heard before. No lights of recognition go off in his head when he hears it. It only adds to the mystery of the guy.

“First off: rude. It’s my name. Well nickname actually, I’m pretty sure my real name was made up by a drunken keysmash. Second: I don’t think I’ll tell you my last name. It adds to the mystery!” With that he takes off down the street, towards the little diner that sits at the other corner.

Stiles obviously knows that Derek has no idea who he is, and he’s going to milk it. Derek smiles to himself and wonders why he let himself be roped into this situation. Then he remembers the warm brown eyes, and the soft smile of his companion for the evening, and races to catch up with him. The door to the restaurant lingers open enough for him to squeeze in after Stiles.

“Two please,” Stiles says, holding up his fingers in the air. The hostess looks like she’d rather be dead than here right now. She’s in her early 20s, and probably should be at the rave that Stiles mentioned earlier, but instead got stuck with a shitty shift on New Year’s Eve.

“Right this way, Stiles,” she’s grabs two menus and smacks her gum a couple of times. Derek takes a second to wonder how this random girl knows who Stiles is and he doesn’t. They are probably close in age, maybe they went to school together? As she steps out from behind the counter, Derek can see her belly protruding out.

“How’re you and Boyd?” Stiles asks as they follow her to the table. There aren’t that many people in the restaurant.

“I’m good. Ready to get this kid out of me. Boyd is good too. We had plans for a nice night in tonight, but he got called to bounce for Lydia’s thing.” They reach their table, and she sets down the menus on the same side of the booth. “So, I came in to catch a few extra bucks. Christmas hit us hard this year,” she rubs a hand over her stomach. She definitely looks like she should be at home resting rather than running around a restaurant.

“You guys will get through it. I know you will.”

Stiles slips into one side of the booth, and Derek into the other, pulling his menu to his side as he does. “You’re almost done with your degree right?”

“Yeah,” her face lights up a little bit. “I have two more semesters. Though with this little one coming any day now,” she pats her belly again, “I’m probably not gonna go back until fall.”

“You’ll get it Er,” Stiles replies. Derek feels like he’s infringing on a very intimate moment, he pulls up his menu and begins to look it over.

“I hope,” she says, it sounds defeated. The tone is quickly changed into a more customer service-y mode when she says, “I’ll give you a couple minutes to look over the menu.” She waddles away, leaving Stiles and Derek alone.

“Erica Reyes. We went to highschool together. We were really good friends, even tried dating once. Then she found Boyd and that was it. Cute couple, and that kid is going to be gorgeous.” He says it all offhandedly while glancing at his own menu. He continues, talking about what she’s doing now, and how hard it is to see her struggling so much. Apparently, her parents kicked her out when they found out she was dating Boyd, who Derek comes to realize is black. They had been living together, working their way through college, and planning a wedding. Then Erica got pregnant and now all their money was going to their daughter, Alicia.

It was surreal how much Stiles knew about this girl he went to highschool with. Derek doesn't even know where his old friends are these days. Stiles so casually says all these things to Derek like it matters, and that it’s important for him to remember. Derek just might too. He has some money laying around and he hasn’t known what to do with it. Maybe he could start a scholarship fund or something.

“Ready boys?” Erica comes back to the table with a small notepad in hand.

“I am. How ‘bout you Derek?” Stiles sets his menu flat on the table and waits for a response.

“Yeah, I think so.” They order. Derek gets a plate of fish and chips while Stiles gets a burger with a name that makes Derek feel his arteries clogging as he listens to it.

“We left a party with boring adult food, and then you order boring adult food?” Stiles deadpans, and for some reason it’s really attractive. Derek still can’t believe he followed Stiles on this little adventure. But he’s cute, and dammit it Derek just needed to be around him for a little bit longer.

“Fish and chips isn’t ‘boring adult food’. Plus, we are adults.” Derek says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Speak for yourself,” Stiles says. Derek’s face drops. He can’t be canoodling with a minor. He’s going to be 30 in a couple of years, this isn’t good. Derek can feel his stomach twist and he feels like he needs to leave right now. “Okay, I can see that your stomach just fell out of your ass. We just established a few moments ago that Erica and I were the same age, and she’s almost done with college. So I’m at least 22. So you can go ahead and calm yourself.”

“How old are you?” Derek asks, because now he feels like he needs to know.

“If I told you, that’d break the mystery.” Stiles responds coyly.

“Please, Stiles. If you don’t tell me, I can’t stay,” Derek huffs out. He won’t end up on the front page of the local paper with this nonsense.

“I’m 23 and a half. But I’m like 12 at heart, is what I meant,” Stiles says flatly with a smile. It takes the moment from nearly awkward to playful. Derek can’t help but wonder how he did that with such a simple gesture.

It doesn’t take their food long to get to their table at all. Since there are probably two other tables occupied. Erica wishes them a good meal and makes her way back to the podium, where Derek sees a book she’s reading.

“If I’m 23 and a half, then that means that you must be what? 29?” Stiles says as he squeezes his ketchup all over his curly fries.

“That’s disgusting,” he blurts out, he can’t stop himself.

“What?” He continues to squeeze the ketchup, drowning the poor fries in a tomato-y death.

“Putting ketchup all over your fries,” Derek says, pulling his napkin away from the silverware to put on his lap.

“No it’s not,” Stiles says, as he gives another big squeeze to the burger itself, drowning it as well.

“They’re going to get all soggy.” Derek grabs the ketchup from Stiles hand and put his own ketchup in one spot at the edge of his plate near his fires. Close enough to dip them, but not touching them.

“They’re fries. They’re supposed to be soggy.” Like in any romcom, just as the words left Stiles’ mouth, the ketchup bottle farted and the air stood still.

“French Fries are _not_ supposed to be soggy. They should be crisp and firm,” Derek picks up his own fry and holds it up. It’s a great fry, thick cut and golden brown. “This is a perfect specimen. Warm to the touch, firm, stiff,” he gives it a little squeeze to prove it. “The perfect fry to dip,” he takes the fry and pats it on the ketchup pile, “and crunch.” He pops the fry in his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

“No, you have to let the fry _consume_ the ketchup. It’s gotta marinate. Otherwise you might as well being eating a raw potato straight from the ground,” Stiles counters, taking his own fry and holding it up in the air and tilts his head back, allowing the fry to fall into his mouth with a plop.

Derek pretends to gag, and Stiles lets out a full bellied laugh. It’s intoxicating, and it only makes whatever Derek is feeling for the other man grow.

“How do you know how old I am?” Derek asks, as Erica drops off the bill at their table. She really should be sitting down, she looks like she’s ready to pop. Derek reaches for the scrap of receipt paper, but Stiles scoops it up before he has a chance.

“I asked you here, therefore, I pay.” Stiles says, reaching around for his wallet. Derek thinks that he might be able to catch his full name from his credit card. Instead, he pulls out some cash. Mostly it’s 5s and 1s but it’s enough to cover the bill. “I know how old you are because, believe it or not, I’ve known you my entire life. You just never bothered to see me.”

Again, Derek is perplexed as to whom this Stiles character is. His mind races with childhood friends, his cousins, his sister’s friends, his mother’s coworkers. Nothing.

“Come on, it’s almost time for the show to start.” Stiles leaves scoops up the bill and the cash on the table and makes his way to the front. Erica gets his change while the two chat a little bit more. Stiles mentions heading over to “Lydia’s show”, to which Erica gives instructions to say hi to Boyd for her. Stiles agrees and drops a crisp $20 bill in Erica’s hand. She gives a weak smile as they walk out the door.

“Oh, hold on a second,” Derek says stopping just outside the door to turn back in. “Can I have two coffees and a burger patty to go?” Erica gives him a look that makes him feel like he’s in high school again, being scrutinized by the popular girl. She walks to the kitchen and comes back out with a small take out container and two coffees.

“Stiles likes his coffee with three cremes and two sugars,” she says, tossing as much in the back. Derek slams a 50 on the counter and takes his bag.

“It’s not for Stiles,” he says and runs back out. Stiles hasn’t moved from where Derek left him. He’s looking at his phone. Stiles backtracks a little bit, and notices that the air is colder than it was earlier.

The two homeless people were exactly where they were earlier. Derek greets them warmly and hands them each a cup of coffee and tells them there is a burger patty for the dog. The couple is appreciative of the gift, and even allow Derek to pet their dog before he excuses himself and makes his way back to Stiles.

When Derek gets back to where Stiles is standing, he can hear him on the phone with someone.

“-want to be there anymore.” He paused, probably for the person on the other line to talk. “Yeah, well we’re headed your way now. The bouncer will have them? Sweet. I owe you one,” he hangs up without another word. Then turns to Derek.

“Who was that?” Derek asks, watching as he sticks his phone in his pocket.

“My friend. Our tickets will be with the bouncer. I didn’t have them because I wasn’t planning on escaping that party,” Stiles explains. “That was nice. Giving those people coffee.”

Derek can feel his cheeks get red. He chalks it up to the cold are, but he knows that it’s mostly the smile that forms on Stiles face as he compliments him. He really doesn’t know what is coming over him, he hasn’t had a crush on someone since middle school. Yet, here he was. Crushing on a perfect stranger.

He can’t find any words, so he just shrugs.

“C’mon,” Stiles says, using his head to gesture in the direction they’re going to be walking in. It’s not surprising that Stiles wants to lead the way, he’s the one who knows where they’re going, but what is surprising is the hand that is outstretched to Derek.

Derek hesitates to take it.

“Oh come on Derek. If you’re going to kiss me at midnight than we should at least touch before that. If not it’s a bit creepy don’t you think?” Stiles says shaking his hand a little as emphasis for Derek to grab it.

With little second thought, Derek takes the outstretched hand and begins to follow. Did.. did Stiles just suggest that they were going to kiss for the countdown?

Derek isn’t really sure what to think of it, but he’s being dragged around the corner to a part of downtown that he hasn’t been too since he was home for spring break during college. The streets are dimly lit, and somewhere behind him he can hear a saxophone chirping lightly at a song. It sounds sad, and alone.

Stiles is talking up a storm, but Derek can’t really focus, because he is too busy watching his eyes light up with each subject and how it is ??

They’re on the outskirts of downtown when Derek sees the line as it wraps around the corner of the building. The marquee on the front says “banshee” and the name is familiar, he’s heard the name on the radio a couple of times. The music was good, and he’s actually excited to go in and see her live. Beneath it were some other names, Derek didn’t recognize any of them, and thinks that they might be local talent.

“Is that the line?” Derek asks, eyes widening as he looks at it. The building itself looks dark, but the windows giveaway the nature of the party inside. Women in skirts that look too short and heels too high stand shivering in the cold of the evening. Their dates look far more concerned with keeping themselves warm than showing some chivalry. Or rather, some basic human decency.

“Yup,” Stiles says, popping the p, and shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Good thing you’re with me though. We get to skip that line.” Stiles takes his hand again without another word and starts leading him to where the line is clinging to the walls of the building. Derek’s stomach feels like a colony of butterflies has taken residence. The feeling of Stiles’ hand in his is almost magical. Derek has no idea why he’s reacting this way.

It seems almost like Stiles is trying to show off, because he starts at the back of the line and walks with Derek’s hand in his past all the shivering people waiting their chance to get in.

They make their way up to the front, where a big black guy stands bundled up in a coat looking immune to the slowly dropping temperatures.

“Boyd!” Stiles says as he lets go of Derek’s hand. The sudden lack of warmth sends a weird flutter through Derek’s stomach, making him shove his hand in his pocket to match his other. “Lyds said you got my tickets.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that,” Boyd says, and something about the complete lack of interest on his face makes Derek like him immediately.

“What?! I just got off the phone with her! She said she texted you. Have you checked your texts?” Stiles is having a mini freak out, and it’s endearing to see him get riled up. His cheeks turn red, and it’s hard to tell if it is because of the cold, or his growing frustration with the bounder. “I’ll get her on the phone right now and-” Stiles flails his arms to pat his body, finding his phone in his pocket.

“Stiles-” Boyd says, a small smile creeping onto his face. Derek suddenly knows that he’s fucking with Stiles.

“She’ll be able to tell you that-” Stiles doesn't’ even stop for a second.

“Stiles,” Boyd tries again.

“Lydia _promised_ and now-”

“Stiles,” Derek finally interrupts, grabbing Stiles’ arm and looking at him. “He’s messing with you.”

As soon as Derek says it, Boyd breaks out in a smile and Stiles groans.

“Fuck you. I can still convince Erica to leave you,” he snaps. Boyd reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wrist bands and holds them out for Stiles.

“No you can’t,” is all he says. Derek doesn’t know this guy, but he definitely thinks that they could be really great friends. “Boyd.” He sticks his other hand out to Derek. Stiles tries to reach for the tickets, but Boyd pulls them away.

“Derek,” he puts his own hand out and takes Boyd’s. It’s a firm handshake, one that would make an excellent first impression at a job interview.

“How did Stiles convince you to be his date tonight?” Boyd is now holding the tickets up over he head, which is high enough that Stiles can’t reach it. The girls at the front of the line laugh a little. It reminds Derek of the times before his growth spurt, when Laura was taller than him.

“He saved me from a boring function my mom was-” Derek starts, but is cut off by Stiles.

“Don’t fraternize with the enemy!” he says as he jumps for the wristbands. Something about the way he says it seems familiar, but there were many times when he was a kid those words must have come up, so Derek doesn’t let the moment linger to long.

“Well, whatever he told you, I’ll tell you that he isn’t as cool as he thinks,” Boyd says while Stiles still jumps for the wristbands that he knows he is not going to get without a little pity from Boyd.

“Duly noted,” Derek says and smiles as he looks over to Stiles who has his tongue sticking out of his mouth at a funny angle.

“Com’on Boyd! It’s cold!” Stiles whines, and Boyd finally does take pity on Stiles, and lowers his hand enough for Stiles to reach up and snag them quickly before Boyd tries to take them up again. “Thaaaaaaanks!” Stiles calls out as he grabs Derek’s elbow and drags him to the entrance. Derek looks back to see the girls trying to warm Boyd up, but the bouncer is back to his stoic stance, still looking immovable in the cold night air.

The door swings open and the air is warm and filled with music, and the walls seem to vibrate with the bass, and it’s crowded.

Derek shrugs off his coat and suit jacket, deciding that having it on in this setting would be very out of place. Stiles does the same and says, “may I?” while pointing to the coat check that Derek didn’t even see.

“Thanks,” Derek says as he hands Stiles his belongings. He glances at his watch again, and sees that it somehow is almost 11:30. The lobby area that they’re standing in isn’t crowded, but there are some doors that most likely lead into the are where the actual party is happening is probably packed with people.

A couple comes in from outside, they don’t have coats and bypass him to go through the doors. As they enter, the sound from inside magnifies and seeps out into the hall. People chant and movement is obvious from where he’s standing. Derek hasn’t been to anything like this in a while so he has no idea what to think.

“Come on,” Stiles says as he comes up behind Derek, grabbing his hand to lead him into the room where the music is coming from.

“Are we meeting your friend?” Derek asks. He feels compelled to thank the woman who got them tickets to what seems to be a difficult even to get into.

Stiles smiles, and lets out a little laugh, “my friend Lydia is the headliner.”

“Your-” Derek pauses, “You’re friend is banshee?”

“Yup. We went to school together, dated for a while too. Now she’s one of my best friends,” Stiles says. They’re walking to the entrance, and when the doors open, Derek is suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of people there. The music leads the crowd, people rocking back and forth as the music works its way up.

“Who are you?” Derek turns to Stiles, genuinely wanting to know how this guy he just met knows so much about him, but also knows banshee. The music is loud, Stiles says something but the beat drops and the crowd starts yelling so much that Derek doesn’t hear it. Without another moment of hesitation, Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and starts leading him through the crowd to the center of the stage.

As soon as they get a good spot, Stiles just starts dancing. Moving his body to the beat, slowly at first, testing out the rhythm of the song, moving with the crowd of people. Derek finds himself following suit.

The music is strangely monotonous, a steady beat mixed in with other little sounds. It’s different than the stuff that he’s heard on the radio. The people around them seem to be getting closer, making Derek move closer to Stiles. He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he puts one of his hands on Derek’s shoulders and pulls him in closer.

The lights that come from the stage set a different tone. Flashing and moving around the space, lighting the fog that is coming from different areas around the room. Up on the stage is a girl, one hand in the air, like she’s leading an orchestra. Her hair is fiery red in between the flashes of lights. Sometimes it blue, sometimes it’s yellow, she looks up into the crowd. She knows she’s in control of the crowd.

Stiles takes the moment Derek is looking at the stage to slip closer. Nudging his leg in between Derek’s. Moving his hips side to side or with little thrusts into Derek. Derek can’t help but thrust back a couple of times. He gets his hands on Stiles’ hips, and allows his hands to roam more than they ever have with a stranger.

 _Stiles isn’t a stranger,_ his mind supplies. It seems enough for him, and he lets it happen. The music fades from one monotonous tone to another. No matter what the music is, it leaves Derek and Stiles entranced with each other.

Stiles sticks his mouth in the crook of Derek’s neck, and Derek reaches down to squeeze his hass. A moan comes from Stiles, and the slight vibration that Derek feels at his neck is better than the beat he feels in the air. It’s not long before Derek can feel something hardening in Stiles’ pants, right up against his leg.

The sensation makes his own dick stir.

There is a countdown on the screen above banshee’s set up. It read 30 minutes until midnight when they walked in, now it says that there is nearly 3 minutes until the new year. It definitely didn’t feel like nearly half an hour passed. Though with the seamless stream of music and dancing it’s understandable how the time passed.

Derek hasn’t had anything to drink tonight, but the way the music moves him, and how his date for the evening moves with him, he feels like he’s almost on another plane.

“Alright ladies and germs, the new year will be here in one minute!” banshee says into a microphone over the music. “If you haven’t found someone to kiss, you better find one quickly!” A loud cheer comes over the crowd, Stiles just looks up to him with his amazing brown eyes. The light makes them shift, from color to color, sometimes highlighting colores Derek didn’t even see before.

“Still wanna be my new years kiss?” Stiles asks with his mouth only inches away from Derek’s.

“Of course,” Derek replies over the loud music. All the people around them turn to someone, presumably the one they will be kissing at when the clock strikes midnight.

“Thirty seconds!” banshee calls again. The clock on the screen changes from a stop watch looking style to numbers ticking down. The music still blasts in the air, and Stiles and Derek can’t help but grind for a few moments longer.

“10!”

The music around them starts to fade a little bit. Derek can’t tell if it’s in his own head or the music is actually fading.

“9!”

The crowd is slowly joining in in the last few seconds of the count down.

“8! 7!”

Banshee pulls up someone from the side of the stage, and wraps her hands around their neck.

“6! 5!”

Stiles begins to lean a little closer, Derek puts his hand on Stiles’ face, cupping it softly.

“4! 3!”

Their legs are still tangled together, and Derek’s mind is racing 100 miles per hour. He briefly wonders if he’ll ever find out who Stiles really is, and if this night, these next 2 seconds can last forever.

“2!”

Stiles is closing in on his lips.

“1! Happy New Year!”

The crowd yells all together. A version of Auld Lang Syne comes on just as a huge puff of fog fills the room. Gold confetti falls to the floor as the lights go crazy, lighting up the fog that lingers in the air.

None of that matters though, because before 1 is even said, Stiles’ lips were on Derek’s. Stiles throws his own hands over Derek’s neck, forcing Derek to move his hand from his cheek. Only now does Derek notice that Stiles is slightly shorter than he is, and that Stiles’ feet are actually off the ground. Derek wraps his own arms around Stiles’ waist to keep him where he is.

It doesn’t take more than a second to take the kiss from a rather intense peck on the lips to a full blown make out. The music picks up around them, and a new energy is pumping in, causing the audience to jump and dance the new year in.

The two stay in their embrace. Derek sets Stiles down, feeling Stiles’ tongue roam his mouth. Derek sucks as his lip a little, catching his breath before going back in. It’s one of the best kisses he’s had in a long time. They finally break apart, Derek knows his perfectly styles hair is a mess now, judging by how much he felt Stiles mess with it. Stiles’ lips are kiss swollen, and Derek would do anything to stay here and follow Stiles for the rest of the night.

He almost does, the temptation of staying in Stiles’ arms is great, but at the back of his head, he remembers his mother’s party, and how she is probably looking for him for her own new years kiss.

“I have to go,” Derek says, feeling very unsure if he really wants to leave.

“We can stay a little longer if you want,” Stiles tries. Derek hopes he feels the same way.

“No, I really should get back. She’s probably wondering where I went,” Derek can feel the disappointment coming from Stiles.

Stiles nods once, and then grabs Derek’s arm and begins turning to the exit. The amount of people in the warehouse is greater than when they arrived. There are people barely in the space, lingering near the front entrance.

The guy at the coat check looks bored out of his mind, and is on his phone.

“Hey Isaac, can I get my coats?” Derek hears Stiles ask. The guy - Isaac- doesn’t look impressed, and wordlessly goes into the room to find his and Stiles’ jackets. When he emerges with their jackets, Stiles lets out another “thaaaaanks” and tosses a few bills into the tip jar.

Boyd has moved from standing outside to standing inside. Derek thanks Boyd again, and follows Stiles out into the street. It’s colder outside than it was earlier, which is probably why Boyd moved inside. Derek looks at his watch and sees that it is only 10 minutes after midnight, and if they hurry, he can be back in the hotel by 12:30.

Derek turns to Stiles to grab his hand to go back to the hotel, but Stiles doesn’t take it.

“Come one Stiles, we need to hurry,” Derek says.

“I uh- I think I’m gonna stay here. Lydia said there’d be an after party but I have to be with her to get in,” Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets, and looks down to the floor then back up at Derek.

“Oh,” is all Derek can say. Off in the distance, the saxophone player from earlier starts playing a sad and lonely sounding Auld Lang Syne.

“I had a lot of fun tonight though,” Stiles starts. It sounds like he’s going to say something else, but stops himself.

“Me too.” A flake of snow falls and lands on Derek’s cheek. He looks up and sees the slow downfall of white coming from the sky. “I’ll see you around then?” Derek hopes that Stiles is brave enough to ask him on a real date.

“Sure,” Stiles smiles, his nose and cheeks turning red. “Bye Derek Hale.”

“Bye, Stiles.” Derek turns away without another word and begins his trek back to the hotel.

When he arrives, it’s like nothing changed. There was confetti on the floor, but no one was dancing. The crowd thinned out, that’s for sure. But his mother was still roaming the ballroom, looking for hands to shake and councilman to schmooze.

“Happy New Years Mom,” Derek says as he approaches her as she finishes talking to Councilman Gillard.

“Oh Happy New Years Baby!” She turns and hugs him, planting a big kiss on his cheek. Derek is thankful that her lipstick didn’t leave a mark.

The rest of the party goers file out not much later, and before Derek knows it, he’s back at his apartment lying in bed and wishing he was brave enough to ask Stiles to see him again. He falls asleep with visions of Stiles dancing with him, with their lips together in the crowded, sweaty warehouse.

 

“Here’s that guest list you asked for,” Laura shoves the file into his hands as she passes him into the apartment, Izzy on her hip. “I don’t know why you need it, you’re not going to find him.”

“Thank you and shut up,” Derek takes the folder and closes the door.

“If mom didn’t know who he was, that list won’t help you either.” She plops down on the couch and sets Izzy down on the floor with her stuffed animal. The TV gets turned on.

“Well, he has to be somewhere. He wouldn’t crash a party he didn’t intend to stay at,” Derek opens the folder where he’s standing and looks over the list quickly. Scanning to see if ‘Stiles’ comes up anywhere with a quick glance. “Plus, he needed an invitation to get in, so someone has to know who he is.”

“Derek,” Laura says turning her attention from the tv to her little brother. “It’s been two months, don’t you think you should like, let him go?”

Derek’s eyes stop grazing the page, but he doesn't look up. He’s thought about it. It’s almost March and he doesn’t even have a lead of who Stiles really is. He went to try to find Erica at the dinner, but she had her baby and won’t be back for a few more months. He has no idea how to get a hold of Boyd, and Lydia is a minor celebrity and won’t even accept his facebook friend request so he can stalk her friends list.

Still, there is something about the guy that Derek needs to learn more about, and if that makes him a creepy stalker type, than he’s a creepy stalker type.

“I can’t Laur.”

There is only one person on the list that has a name even slightly similar to Stiles. That being Sheriff Stilinski, but everytime Derek tries to call and ask about a potential connection, the Sheriff is unavailable. When he finally does get a hold of the sheriff, he’s told that Sheriff Stilinski did invite his son, but he never showed up. Another couple of months go by, and it seems like the more time that passes, the more Derek accepts that that night is one for the books, and that he’ll never be able to find Stiles again.

  
Derek gets an email from his old professor at Berkeley, asking him to come and give a lecture about how he took his history degree and turned it into a career at the local history preservations society. Derek agrees, because he’ll do anything for the professor that took him under his wing and taught him everything he knows.

The drive down to Berkeley isn’t exciting, it’s almost completely uneventful until the radio announcer introduces the next song as the latest from banshee. The memories of New Years come back as he listens to the song that is nothing like the selection from that evening. It’s easier to listen to, not as rough or choppy. Nonetheless, it brings back memories of roaming hands and amazing lips on his.

Derek pushes the memories out of his mind as he pulls up to the coffee shop that Professor Howard told him to meet the TA, a young man named Mieczyslaw. Derek hopes the guy doesn’t mind that Derek cannot say his name at all.

The coffee shop is busy. It takes Derek back to the days when he would spend hours here working on his dissertation or grading papers. He wonders if the TA fancies this spot for grading paper too.

Derek finds a spot by the window, and hopes that the TA knows what he looks like because he has no idea what to look for. He pulls out his laptop, and goes through his lecture notes while he waits, hoping that this kid shows up sooner rather than later.

“Derek Hale,” a voice that sounds familiar says. Derek looks up to see Stiles standing in front of him. He looks different. He’s got thick black glasses on, and a beanie that covers his brown hair. Gone is the tux that he had on that night, and replacing it is a plaid over shirt on top of a graphic t-shirt with the Jurassic Park logo.

“Stiles,” Derek kind of can’t believe what he’s seeing. He’s suddenly hopeful that this is exactly what the universe has instore for them. “What are you doing here?” he says without really thinking.

“I’m meeting someone.” Stiles has his backpack off one shoulder

“Oh,” Derek’s heart sinks because of course Stiles moved on already. He would never dwell over some random guy he met at a party 4 months ago. “Well then I’ll let you get to that then.” Derek looks down to his laptop, checking the time and noticing that the TA is late.

“I don’t see him yet,” Stiles looks around the busy shop, then motions to the chair opposite of Derek. “Mind if I-?” Derek does mind. He minds very much, but he can’t say no. He just nods. “Sweet, thanks.”

Derek gives a pinched smiles then tries to distract himself with editing a slide that had a typo. They sit in silence while the coffee shop bustles around them. Stiles doesn’t move to pull out his own laptop, instead sipping at the paper coffee cup in his hands.

The silence bothers Derek, mostly because a few months ago, he would have done anything to be in the same space as Stiles. Now, here is he, and he can’t even muster up enough courage to make small talk.

“Can I ask you something?” Derek finally says, finding the courage.

“Sure,” Stiles says, supping at his cup again.

“How do you know me? Seriously.” Derek closes his laptop and looks at Stiles with unwavering attention. He definitely is not looking at his lips and how they seem perfectly kissable.

Stiles lets out a huff and smiles while swallowing his coffee, “You still haven’t figured it out?”

Derek is annoyed, he’s spent months trying to find this guy and he’s being an asshole. “No. I tried looking for you on my mother’s guest list but-”

“I’m not on the guest list,” Stiles finishes for him. Derek nods curtly. “Well, I’ll tell you this: my dad’s on the guest list. Sheriff Stilinski.”

“Sheriff Stilinski said his son never showed up,” Derek counters.

“I did, I just didn’t bother making a huge entrance. Then I saw you moping in the corner and knew I needed to get your grumpy ass out of there,” Stiels responds playfully.

Derek looks at him for a couple of seconds, watching as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“Fine, so you’re the sheriff’s son. What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I’m here to meet someone,” Stiles says cooly, like he isn’t trying to be difficult.

“No not here here. Berkeley.”

“Getting a quality education.” The room around them is getting busier, and Derek really hopes this guys he’s supposed to meet comes soon. Maybe he’ll trying calling Professor Howard. “Speaking of which, come on, we’re going to be late for lecture.” Stiles stands up. And stretches his hand out to Derek.

“What?” Derek asks, thoroughly confused.

“I’m Howard’s TA. We need to go now if you wanna make it to lecture on time,” Stiles pushes his chair in, and gets his backpack off the floor.

“You’re  Mee-cuzy-slaw?”

“Ouch. Don’t ever say that again, but yes, that is the name on my birth certificate,” Stiles gets his cup of coffee, still holding his hand out for Derek. “Let’s go.”

Derek scrambles to get his things together and grabs Stiles’ hand, kind of relieved that Stiles isn’t on a date with someone else.

“For the record, don’t call me Mieczyslaw until you can pronounce it correctly.” That- that gives Derek a shred of hope that there might actually be some sort of future for them. They walk all the way to the lecture hall holding hands, and after the lecture, Stiles asks Derek out on a realy date.

It’s at dinner that Stiles reveals that he and Derek’s mothers used to be in the same book club many years ago. They didn’t play together, because Derek was sure that Stiles wasn’t big enough. Derek feels like an idiot for ignoring the kid when they were little.

 

Epilogue:

The next year’s New Years Eve party was no better than the one before. Derek’s mother invited the same people, and had the same soundtrack on loop all night. Fortunately, Derek was able to sneak out again for another adventure with Stiles. Except, instead of running off with some stranger, he’s running off with his boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Please please PLEASE leave a comment and a kudos if you did! It's so greatly appreciated and it takes a few seconds. I really fail at tagging, so if there is anything you think I should add please let me know!!
> 
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> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging [ this post](http://ladiekatie.tumblr.com/post/169153453251/kiss-me-at-midnight) to spread the love!! Every reblog, kudos, and comment, is motivation for me to write and post more.


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